


Pop the Question

by ryanthepowerbottomguy



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, GTA AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 21:46:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3356426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryanthepowerbottomguy/pseuds/ryanthepowerbottomguy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ryan started sleeping with his boss, he hadn’t expected this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pop the Question

**Author's Note:**

> here's some ridiculous fluff in honor of Valentine's Day

“Marry me.”

They’ve been sleeping together for three weeks. Or, more accurately, they’ve been sleeping together through three gunfights, eight drugs deals, a weapons smuggling operation, and a jewelry store heist. It’s been a busy three weeks. Ryan’s actually not sure how they worked fucking into that.

But the point is: they have been sleeping together for three weeks, nothing even similar to the word  _relationship_ has passed Geoff’s lips, and now they’re standing in the middle of the penthouse’s kitchen at ten in the morning and Geoff just proposed to Ryan in between sips of coffee.

Ryan freezes, feeling a little like a small animal caught in the headlights of an oncoming eighteen-wheeler. A strangled noise escapes his throat.

Geoff continues, as if Ryan isn’t having a goddamn coronary in the middle of his kitchen, “No seriously, this coffee is good as dicks. How did I not know you could make coffee?”

Oh.  _Oh._ Ryan swallows down his panic and grins when Geoff looks over at him. He ignores the way his heart is still pounding with utter dread. “You don’t know a whole lot about me,” he points out, rolling his shoulders to loosen them.

“Lemme guess, you were a barista in college,” Geoff says, expression turning sharp and gleeful like it always does when he tries to pry information about Ryan’s past from him. Ryan smirks and says nothing, taking a sip of his own coffee.

—

It doesn’t end there, of course it doesn’t.

They’re in the middle of a firefight with Los Santos’ finest the next time. It had started out as nothing—a fucking parking ticket, of all things, but then the cop had seen the rocket launcher in the backseat and had called for backup and well, things had gone downhill fast, and Geoff is shouting to the cops and Ryan and anyone who will listen about getting his car re-detailed.

They got separated a few minutes ago, and now they’re across the street from each other: Geoff behind a concrete barricade, Ryan taking refuge behind the car. And the cops keep coming, and they’re starting to concentrate their firepower on Geoff. Ryan can’t let that happen, of course. So he grabs the rocket launcher.

In the ringing silence after, Geoff laughs as he runs to the car, looking no worse for wear except for a graze on his bicep that’s bleeding a little, and says, “Ryan, you beautiful bastard. I should marry you for that.”

And Ryan stops breathing again.

Because here’s the thing. He likes Geoff. He likes drinking with Geoff and he likes fucking Geoff and he likes killing people because Geoff told him to, but this kind of shit? This kind of thing is why he kept his hands to himself for so damn long. Because people form  _attachments_. Because Geoff is an all-or-nothing kind of guy. Because honestly, Ryan should have seen this coming.

So he doesn’t say anything as he swings into the driver’s side and gets them the fuck out before more cops can show up. Geoff seems unhurt by Ryan’s lack of response, though, and eventually Ryan breathes a quiet sigh of relief.

—

It happens again: Ryan pulls out of Geoff, flops to his side, and Geoff mutters something that sounds like, “We should get married.” Ryan’s too worn out to deal with it this time, so he doesn’t acknowledge that Geoff said a thing, and a minute later Geoff drops off to sleep anyway. Ryan doesn’t sleep, though, not with Geoff’s words buzzing through his head and the way his stomach is twisting.

—

Over the course of the next two months, Geoff casually proposes to Ryan a total of six times, and every time it makes Ryan’s breath stop and his palms start sweating in discomfort. Even when he figures out it’s a rhetorical, something Geoff probably doesn’t even realize he’s saying so much, Ryan can’t get past it. Geoff doesn’t casually propose to any other members of the crew (though, to Ryan’s knowledge, Geoff isn’t sleeping with any other members of the crew).

Eventually Geoff stops saying it in favor of an overly-heartfelt “oh _fuck_ me,” and _that_ Ryan can respond to—“I just did,” or, “Yeah maybe later,” or, “In the middle of a shootout? Okay then.”

They still aren’t talking about whatever this relationship is, and Ryan’s good with that. He’s great with it. He ignores the fact that he keeps hanging on to Geoff’s words in the hopes of catching one of those casual proposals again. It’s not like it keeps him up at night or anything. Not like he replays the words in his head while watching Geoff sleep next to him. Not like he lingered too long around the rings the last time they robbed a jewelry store. Not at all.

—

It’s one of those days where everything goes right, where they all work together so seamlessly that it takes Ryan’s breath away. Where the cops aren’t a match for them as they drive off, a couple hundred grand richer and none of them worse for wear.

Ryan is standing and firing his rifle out of the sunroof as Jack drives them off into the sunset, and Geoff’s in the next car over with the lads. Ryan shoots the tires out of a tanker truck they pass on the highway and it skids and swerves into the oncoming cops, and Ryan lets out an overjoyed laugh that it _worked_.

“Holy dicks,” Geoff says over the radio, over the sounds of the lads cheering. Geoff’s laughing and the sound of it makes Ryan grin.

“That was beautiful, Ryan, holy shit,” Geoff continues, and Ryan warms at the praise. “I should marry you for that.”

Ryan sucks in a breath and freezes for a second. None of the others say anything—used to Geoff’s weirdness or ignoring it—but Ryan can’t help the way his breath hitches when he says, “Okay then.”

There’s a sudden silence over the radio for a second, and then Michael’s laughing, exclaiming, “Oh my god did you two just get engaged?” and Ryan’s face is bright red under the mask. He shouldn’t have fucking said anything, and now his stomach’s dropping because Geoff still hasn’t said anything, and Ryan made it real, made it serious, shit.

“‘Okay then’?” Geoff finally demands. He sounds like he’s holding in laughter. “I ask for your hand in marriage and all you can say is ‘okay then’? What kind of boyfriend are you?”

“You proposed to me in the middle of a heist!” Ryan replies. “What kind of boyfriend are _you_?”

“You know, there’s a jewelry store up this way,” Jack interjects in between giggles. “You two could get rings.”

Ryan looks over at the other car. Geoff rolls down the driver’s side window and looks over at Ryan quickly. He pulls his radio out of his ear, and Ryan takes off his mask, the wind immediately whipping his hair into his face.

“Hey Ryan, will you marry me?” Geoff yells over the sound of the highway and their heist, over the sound of sirens and gunfire, of chaos and destruction and all the things Ryan loves best in this world.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [ryanthepowerbottomguy](http://ryanthepowerbottomguy.tumblr.com) over on tumblr! come say hi!


End file.
